


.candied reminders

by suspishfish



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Could work as implied Breakbert, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspishfish/pseuds/suspishfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I always told him that all those candies would kill him someday. Funny that it turned out to be the other way round... that they'd kill me, instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	.candied reminders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).



> Based on an idea posted by surfacage. I just wrote my interpretation of it. I wanted to try and keep it minimalistic. Hope you enjoy!

Everything he ate was always so sweet. Maybe it was because somehow he knew just how bitter his end would be.

\-----

It's the first time the hatter's desk is immaculate, and Gilbert hates it. The study is empty, the cupboard is bare, and no matter how many times he checks the closet, the only thing he finds out of place is that everything is right where it ought to be. No one slinks up behind him with complete disregard for doors and proper means of entering a room. No more dodged paper work, no more responsibility foisted upon him at the last minute. No more cheeky retorts concerning his short-comings and uselessness. No more demands for cake at ungodly hours. Nothing for what feels like an eternity.

When the first incident comes to pass, Gilbert snaps at one of his peers, berates anyone and everyone within earshot at indecent volume that slipping a candy wrapper into his uniform is in extremely poor taste and most certainly not amusing and does not quiet until Sharon pulls him aside and soothes him gently. _You are not the only one who misses him_ , says her watery smile.

_Then why am I the only one still carrying him about in my pocket?_

Reminders pour out from his desk drawer, from a familiar but dusty teacup, atop his favored baking sheet of all places and _how_ , he demands to know, but no answer comes. The last he finds as it flutters noiselessly through the dark when he plucks his pillow from the bed, and had it not caught his eye in a flash of moonlight, he may have missed it altogether. Pale fingers fish it out from between the floorboards, and god! But if Break could see him now, crawling about on his knees to retrieve an empty candy wrapper because of an overwhelming and painful sentiment coiling and tightening in the center of his chest...

Break isn't here anymore. He isn't. So why is he everywhere? Why can't the dead stay dead and gone?

The wrapper crumples effortlessly in his palm. Because what's one more broken piece of his heart?

_Stop following me. Stop half-assing this, you bastard! You half-assed everything else. Can't you be bothered to finish something for once? Can't you just stop?_

But the tears don't stop. They're stupid and obnoxious and irritating and do whatever the hell they want to just like _him--_

_Just... just stop..._

_**Stop being dead...!** _


End file.
